Monotony
by Casey Crowe
Summary: Monotony: NounInflected forms: pl.mo·not·o·nies. Tedious sameness or repetitiousness: the monotony of daily routine.Naminé reflects on the same activity she repeats every day without fail. Naminé, Marluxia & Larxene


_Monotony_

**Author: Salem**

**Pairing(s): MarluxiaLarxene**

**Additional Information: Oneshot. Written in Naminé's POV... not sure if you'd call this Naminécentric or not, though. Written at four in the morning. (Shut up, I was having one of those can't-get-comfortable-enough-to-sleep nights and suddenly had a muse rush at four. ... And then I think I fell asleep about ten seconds after I put my notebook down, so I guess the muse rush was a good thing. xD) **

**Anyway. On with the story.**

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It's a common scene in Castle Oblivion today.

The same prim blonde girl settled into the same high-backed white chair, staring almost doubtfully at the same sketchbook and the drawing it contains as per that moment.

The same (slightly effeminate) man and (not-so-slightly insane) woman, frozen in the same stance- just a hair's breadth apart, stopped at almost the exact instant they are about to kiss.

This is the hundredth time Naminé has been ordered to draw this scene, and she knows before her pencil ever touches the paper that it will be the hundredth time she will be yelled at for "drawing it wrong." She cannot change this, for it is simply the way Larxene prefers to approach what she knows cannot be fixed- namely, that missing undercurrent to the image, missing because in order to achieve that certain fire between the two pseudo-lovers, they would have to _not_ be lacking a heart.

Yes, she can't help this, can't help them. Paper and pencils and crayons and paint, that's all she has, not even the correct ingredients for even the _smallest_ heart. She can't give them what they want- what she _knows_ they want; what they strive for, what they long for even while they're longing for one another in that oddly hollow sort of way- so she merely draws what they _say_ they want.

Now, as she automatically moves to erase a small smudge near the hem of Marluxia's coat, she allows herself to glance up and marvel (ever so briefly, for there's work to be done) at the degree of absolute stillness they can achieve. It's as though they really are frozen in place, paralyzed by one another's gaze.

The only thing that defies this concept is their eyes; their bodies may be perfectly immobile, but their eyes rove endlessly across one another's faces, tracing contours and following every little line they happen upon. In fact, she muses, as she returns to shading in one of Larxene's sleeves, they probably know each other's faces by now as well as if they were the ones doing the drawing instead of her.

The thought causes a small, rueful smile to grace her lips, and-

- And Larxene has paused from drinking in her statuesque pseudo-lover's face to look at her instead, and (ohcrapohcrapohcrap) she's abandoned her posing to take two or three steps in the younger Nobody's direction,

"Is there something funny, Memory Witch?" she inquires coolly, and Naminé flinches a little, both at the way it so sharply breaks the silence and at the undertone of God-help-you-if-you're-laughing-at-us in the question. She's very, very careful to keep her face down and her eyes averted when she replies, trying to be casual as she selects another crayon _(mustnotstopworkingorelse)_.

"No, Larxene. Nothing, Larxene," she mumbles, and at that moment the proper little girl with the still-faintly-naïve mentality is silently using words that would make even a seasoned sailor blush (the byproduct of letting Xigbar "babysit" after a few too many nips at the sake and a few too many wild stories involving a lot of gunplay, woman and more booze). There is a moment of silence; Naminé scarcely dares to look up, but does so anyway. Larxene looks torn between seizing the excuse to be cruel, and returning to Marluxia; then she glances back at the still-patiently-posing Graceful Assassin, and the decision is made for her. A shiver of anticipation visibly passes between them, and then in a non-heartbeat she's back in her original place as though she'd never moved at all. Likewise, Naminé goes back to her work as though nothing had occurred; best not to dwell on the unpleasant.

No more than another five minutes pass before Naminé returns the last crayon to its box and quietly announces that she's finished. Instantly the two older Nobodies are before her, demanding to see it (so eager for something they already know will not be what they'd hoped for; why, she'll never know). Passively handing the sketchbook to Marluxia, she watches as he scrutinizes it for a long moment and then passes it to Larxene before uttering a nearly-whispered "I'll be waiting outside" and leaving the room without another word.

Larxene always scans the drawing far more thoroughly than Marluxia ever does (Naminé always believes she's searching for that missing piece). She barely flinches as Larxene tears the drawing from the sketchbook and tucks it into her pocket, because she knows it's coming (and she also knows that normally Larxene would tear up any other drawing, but she never so much as crumples these portraits). Likewise, she doesn't move when Larxene snaps "You got it all wrong _again,_ Naminé!" and swats her on the arm (partly because she simply wouldn't react anyway and partly because she knows that if Larxene was _really_ that angry about the sketch, she wouldn't just hit her once and leave it at that).

When Larxene leaves without another word to join Marluxia, Naminé returns to what she'd been drawing before she was interrupted: a boy with an overlarge key and spiky brown hair, clutching an oddly-shaped card in one hand. Sora will come for her at some point; and when he does, as Larxene is so fond of reminding her, she'll "get to break his heart all over again." She's not looking forward to that day. But until then, she'll just continue to go with the same daily activities- the same daily interruption, the same exact portait, and same hollow people trying to love without hearts.

The some monotonous routine, day after day after day.

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**Author's Note: Yup, it's the return of the evil Read and Review request. (Diabolical, isn't it?) I'd like to point out that I did indeed intend for the last paragraph to look the way it does- sentence/sentence in brackets- and that it isn't one of those I'm-up-way-too-early crack accidents. xD Anyway... Read and Review. (And don't shoot the messenger.)**


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